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SONGS  O'CHEE 


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NEGHBORLY  POEMS 

SKETCHES   IX  PROSE   WITH  INTERLUDING  VEHSES 

AFTERWHILES 

PIPES  O'  PAN  AT  ZF.KESBURY  (Prose  and  Verse) 

RHYMES  OF  CHILDHOOD 

THE  FLYING  ISLANDS  OF  THE  NIGHT 

GREEN  FIELDS  AND  RUNNING  BROOKS 

ARMAZINDY 

A  CHILD-WORLD 

HOME-FOLKS 

HIS  PA'S  ROMANCE  (Portrait  by  Clay) 


GREENFIELD   EDITION 

Sold  only  in  sets.     Eleven  volumes  uniformly   bound   in  sage- 
green  cloth,  k'ilt  top $13.50 

The  same  in  half-calf 27.00 


OLD-FASHIONED  ROSES   (English  Edition) 

THE  GOLDEN  YEAR  (English  Edition) 

POEMS  HERE  AT  HOME 

RUB.-{lVAT  OF  DOC  SIFERS 

THE  BOOK  OF  JOYOUS  CHILDREN 

RILEY  CHILD-RHYMES  (Pictures  by  Vavvter) 

RILEY  LOVE-LYRICS    (Pictures  by  Dyer) 

RILEY  FARM-RHYMES  (Pictures  by  Vawter) 

RILEY  SONGS  O'  CHEER  (Pictures  by  Vawter) 

AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  OF  MINE  (Pictures  by  Christy) 

OUT  TO  OLD  AUNT  MARY'S  (Pictures  by  Christy) 

A  DEFECTIVE  SANTA  GLAUS  (Forty  Pictures  by  Kelyea 
and  Vawter) 


SONGS  O'  CHEER 


Y  GRAMPA  he's  a-allus  sayin', 

"  Sing  a  song  o'  cheer  !  "  — 
And,  wunst  I  says  "  What  kind  is  them  ?" 

He  says, — "The  kind  to  hear.— 
'Cause  they're  the  songs  that  Nature  sings, 

In  ever'  bird  that  t\vitters  !  " 
"Well,  whipperivills  and  doves,"  says  I, 

"  Hain't  over-cheery  critters  !  " 
"Then  don't  you  sing  like  them,"  he  says — 

"  Xer  guinny-hens,  my  dear — 
Ner  peafowls  nuther  (drat  the  boy!,' 

You  sing  a  song  o'  cheer!" 
I  can't  sing  nolhin'  anyhow; 

But,  comin'  home,  to'rds  night; 
I  kindo'-sorto'  kep'  a-whistlin' 

"Old-Bob-White!" 


RILEY 


SONGS  O'  CHEER 


JAMES  WH1TCOMB  RILE' 


WITH    PICTURES   BY 

WILL  VAWTER 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1883,  1887,  1888,  1890,  1891,  1892,  1894,  1896,  1897 
1900,  1901,  1903,  1904,  1905 

b, 
James  Whitcomb  Riley 

All-  ftig/ils  Reserved 


PRINTED  BY 

CHARLES   FRANCIS  PRESS 
NEW  YORK 


DEDICATION 


To 


BLISS    CARMAX 

HE  is  the  morning  s  poet — 
The  bard  of  mount  and  moor, 

The  minstrel  fine  of  dci^y  shine, 
The  darning's  troubadour: 

The  brother  of  the  bluebird, 

'Mid  blossoms,  throng  on  throng, 

Whose  singing  calls,  o'er  orchard  walls, 
Seem  glitter  ings  of  song: 


He  meets,  with  brow  uncovered, 
The  sunrise  through  the  mist, 

With  raptured  eyes  that  range  the  skies 
And  seas  of  amethyst: 

The  bramblcd  rose  clings  to  him; 

The  breezy  wood  receives 
Him  as  the  guest  she  loves  the  best 

And  laughs  through  all  her  leaves: 

Pan  and  Iiis  nymplis  and  dryads 
They  hear,  in  breathless  pause, 

This  earth-born  wight  lilt  his  delight, 
And  envy  him  because   „   .   .   . 

He  is  the  morning's  poet — 
The  bard  of  mount  and  moor, 

The  minstrel  fine  of  dewv  shine, 
The  dawning' s  troubadour. 


CONTENTS 

ALL-GOLDEN,  THE 83 

AT  BROAD  RIPPLE 155 

AT  UTTER  LOAF 120 

AUTUMN 176 

AWAY 76 

BABYHOOD        .....  55 

BILLY  MILLER'S  CIRCUS-SHOW 139 

BLOSSOMS  ON  THE  TREES,  THE 23 

BOY'S  MOTHER,  A            .                 124 

CHRISTMAS  CAROL,  A 167 

DAN  PAINE in 

DAWN,  NOON  AND  DEWFALL        ......  116 

EXCEEDING  ALL 127 

FIRST  BLUEBIRD,  THE 64 

FULL  HARVEST,  A 160 

FUNNIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD,  THE      ....  100 

GOD  BLESS  Us  EVERY  ONE 191 

GRANNY 25 

HARPER,  THE 168 

HEREAFTER,  THE            108 

HER  SMILE  OF  CHEER  AND  VOICE  OF  SONG            .        .  164 

HIRED  MAN'S  FAITH  IN  CHILDREN,  THE           .        .        .  143 

HYMB  OF  FAITH,  A 29 

KISSING  THE  ROD 119 

LAUGHTER 46 

LET  SOMETHING  GOOD  BE  SAID 163 

LIGHT  OF  LOVE,  THE    ...  80 


CONTENTS— Continued 

LITTLE  DAVID .        .  159 

LITTLE-RED-APPLE  TREE,  THE 47 

LOVELY  CHILD,  THE 34 

MISTER  HOP-TOAD 41 

MY  FIDDLE      .                                              ....  103 

MY  PHILOSOFY 67 

NOON  INTERVAL,  A 144 

OLD  MAN'S  MEMORY,  AN 37 

ON  ANY  ORDENARY  MAN  IN  A  HIGH  STATE  OF 

LAUGHTURE  AND  DELIGHT 151 

OUR  QUEER  OLD  WORLD    ....                .        .  59 

PASSING  HAIL,  A     ....               ....  147 

PRAYER  PERFECT,  THE 195 

RAPTURE  OF  THE  YEAR,  THE 19 

SCHOOLBOY'S  FAVORITE,  THE       .  .171 

SONG  OF  THE  ROAD,  A          ...                       .        .  72 

SUMMER'S  DAY,  A 95 

THERE  Is  EVER  A  SONG  SOMEWHERE       ....  187 

THERE  WAS  A  CHERRY-TREE 152 

TWINS,  THE .        .  132 

UNLESS 88 

WE  TO  SIGH  INSTEAD  OF  SING           .....  109 

WHATEVER  THE  WEATHER  MAY  BE         ....  91 

WHILE  THE  HEART  BEATS  YOUNG 128 

WHO  BIDES  His  TIME 51 

WILLOW,  THE          .        .                        130 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

MY  GRAMPA  HE'S  A-ALLUS  SAYIN',  "SiNG  A 

SONG  o' CHEER!  "       ......        Frontispiece 

THE  RAPTURE  OF  THE  YEAR — TITLE  ....  ig 

WHILE  SCHOOL-GIRLS  SWEET,  ix  LANE  OR  STREET         .  21 

THE  BLOSSOMS  ON  THE  TREES— TITLE        ...  23 

THE  BLOSSOMS  ON  THE  TREES  — TAILPIECE        ...  24 

GRANNY — TITLE .        .  25 

TELLS  Us  ALL  THE  FAIRY  TALES 27 

A  HYMB  OF  FAITH— TITLE 29 

EF  STORMS  AND  TEMPESTS  URED  TO  SEE          ...  31 

THE  LOVELY  CHILD — TITLE 34 

COULD  THERE  BE  A  SWEETER  THING         ....  35 

AN  OLD  MAN'S  MEMORY— TITLE 37 

To  SMILE  His  GODSPEED  ON  THE  PLOW     ....  39 

MISTER  HOP-TOAD—TITLE          ...  41 

STRAIGHTEN  UP  AND  H'IST  YOUR  HEAD     ....  43 

MISTER  HOP-TOAD—TAILPIECE 45 

LAUGHTER— TITLE 46 

THE  LITTLE-RED-APPLE  TREE— TITLE     ....  47 

WHEN  I  WAS  THE  LITTLEST  BIT  OF  A  BOY         ...  49 

WHO  BIDES  His  TIME— TITLE     ......  51 

JOY  RUNS  TO  MEET  HIM,  DRAWING  NEAR          .  53 

BABYHOOD— TITLE          ....-,..  55 

TAKE  THIS  EAGER  HAND  OF  MINE 57 

FER  THEM  'AT'S  HERE  IN  AIRLIEST  IK  ^ANT  STAGES       .  61 

IT'S  A  PURTY  GOOD  WORLD,  OLD  MAN  !  63 

AND  WHEN  THAT  BLUEBIRD  SUNG 65 


ILLUSTRATIONS-Continued 

MY  PHILOSOFY — TITLE 67 

THERE  Is  TIMES  WHEN  ALL  ALONE  ....  69 

A  SONG  OF  THE  ROAD— TITLE 72 

THE  ROAD  You  TAKE  "s  THE  PATH  o'  LOVE  ...  73 

AWAY— TITLE 76 

WITH  A  WAVE  OF  THE  HAND 77 

BUT  WHAT  CARE  WE  FOR  LIGHT  ABOVE  ?  ...  81 

THE  ALL-GOLDEN— TITLE 83 

WHERE  REEDS  AND  RUNNING  WATERS  ARE  ...  85 

THE  ALL-GOLDEN—TAILPIECE 87 

WHO  HAS  NOT  WANTED  DOES  NOT  GUESS  WHAT 

PLENTY  Is 89 

WHATEVER  THE  WEATHER  MAY  BE — TITLE  ...  91 

THE  WORLD  OF  GLOOM  Is  A  WORLD  <»:<•  GLEE  .  .  93 

AND  WATCHIN'  CLOS'T,  WITH  UPTURNED  EYES  .  .  97 

THE  FUNNIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD— TITLE  .  .  100 

WATCHIN' THE  MONKEYS 'AT'S  IN  THE  SHOW!  .  .  .  101 

MY  FIDDLE — TITLE 103 

"THE  OLD  FAT  GAL",  AND  "RYE-STRAW"  AND 

"MY  SAILYOR'S  ON  THE  SEA" 105 

MY  FIDDLE— TAILPIECE 107 

THE  HEREAFTER— TITLE 108 

WE  TO  SIGH  INSTEAD  OF  SING— TITLE  ....  109 

DAN  PAINE — TITLE m 

WHILE  THY  WARM  SOUL  SHINES  OUT,  DAN  PAINE  .  113 

DAN  PAINE — TAILPIECE 115 

ON  THE  APERN  o'  THE  DAM,  LEGS  A-DANGLIN'  OVER  117 

AT  UTTER  LOAF— TITLE  i2c 


ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

THE  BOUGHS  ABOVE  ME  SPREAD  A  SHADE        ...  121 

AN'  GRABS  ME  UP  AN'  PATS  MY  MEAD        ....  125 

EXCEEDING  ALL—TITLE 127 

WHILE  THE  HEART  BEATS  YOUNG— TITLE         .        .        ..  128 

OUR  BARE  FEET  IN  THE  MEADOWS 129 

THE  TWINS — TITLE 132 

JES'THE  BOSSEST  PAIR  o'  BABIES  'AT  A  MORTAL 

EVER  SAW! 133 

THE  WILLOW— TITLE 136 

IN  SHADY  PLACES  PEERING  UP  WITH  GLIMMERING 

PEBBLES 137 

BILLY  MILLER'S  CIRCUS-SHOW 139 

HE'S  "THE  OLD  CLOWN",  AN'  GOT  ON  CLO'ES     ...  141 

THE  HIRED  MAN'S  FAITH  IN  CHILDREN— TITLE       .        .  143 

A  NOON  INTERVAL -TITLE 144 

A  DEEP  DELICIOUS  HUSH  IN  EARTH  AND  SKY  .        .  145 

LET  Us  REST  OURSELVES  A  BIT  ......  149 

ON  ANY  ORDENARY  MAN  IN  A  HIGH  STATE  OF  LAUGHTURE 

AND  DELIGHT— TITLE 151 

THERE  WAS  A  CHERRY-TREE — TITLE         .        .        .        .  152 

THERE  WAS  A  BLOOM  OF  SNOW — THERE  WAS  A  BOY       .  153 

AT  BROAD  RIPPLE— TITLE 155 

I  BAIT  MY  HOOK  AND  CAST  MY  LINE          ....  157 

LITTLE  DAVID— TITLE 159 

A  FULL  HARVEST — TITLE 160 

JES'  LOOKY  HYONDER,  HEY? 161 

OF  DEWY  MORNING — BUDS  AND  BLOOMS    ....  165 

AND  THERE  WAS  THE  LITTLE  BED  IN  THE  CORNER 

OF  THE  GARRET        ...  ...  i6g 


ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

THE  SCHOOLBOY'S  FAVORITE — TITLE          ....  171 

OVER  THE  RIVER  AND  THROUGH  THE  WOOD     .        .        .  173 

AUTUMN— TITLE 176 

FARING  DOWN  SOME  WOODY  TRAIL    .....  177 

SINGING  SLANTED  STRANDS  OF  RAIN  181 
WITH  THE  TAWNY  LAZINESS  OF  THE  GOLD  THAT 

OPHIR  KNEW 185 

THERE  Is  EVER  A  SONG  SOMEWHERE — TITLE   .        .        .  187 

THERE  Is  EVER  A  SONG  THAT  OUR  HEARTS  MAY  HEAR  189 

GOD  BLESS  Us  EVERY  ONE — TITLE 191 

AND  THUS  HE  PRAYED,  "Goo  BLESS  Us  EVERY  ONE  !"  .  193 

END  PICTURE          ...  ....  194 


RILEY  SONGS  O'  CHEER 


THE  RAPTURE  OF  THE  YEAR 


WI I  ILK  skies  glint  bright  with  bluest  light 
Through   clouds   that   race  o'er   field   and 
town. 

And  leaves  go  dancing  left  and  right. 
And  orchard  apples  tumble  down  ; 
\\hile  school-girls  sweet,  in  lane  or  street. 
Lean  'gainst  the  wind  and  feel  and  hear 
Its  glad  heart  like  a  lover's  beat, — 
So  reigns  the  rapture  of  the  year. 

19 


THE    RAPTURE    OF    THE    YEAR 

Then  ho!  and  hc\!  and  whoop-hooray! 

Though  winter  clouds  be  looming, 
Remember  a  November  day 
Is  merrier  than  mildest  May 

ll'itJi  all  her  blossoms  blooming. 

While  birds  in  scattered  flight  are  blown 

Aloft  and  lost  in  dusky  mist, 
And  truant  boys  scud  home  alone 

'Neath  skies  of  gold  and  amethyst ; 
While  twilight  falls,  and  Echo  calls 

Across  the  haunted  atmosphere, 
With  low,  sweet  laughs  at  intervals, — 

So  reigns  the  rapture  of  the  year. 

Tlicn  ho!  and  hey!  and  whoop-Jworay! 

Though  winter  clouds  be  looming, 
Remember  a  Xovcmbcr  day 
Is  merrier  than  mildest  May 

H'ith  all  her  blossoms  blooming. 


20 


THE  KLOSSOMS  OX  THE  TREES 


BLOSSOMS  crimson,  white,  or  blue, 
Purple,  pink,  and  every  hue. 
From    sunny   skies,   to   tintings    drowned 

In  dusky  drops  of  dew, 
I  praise  you  all,  wherever  found, 

And   love   you   through   and   through  ; 
But,  Rlossoms  On  The  Trees, 
"With  your  breath  upon  the  breeze, 
There's   nothing  all  the  world  around 
As  half  as  sweet  as  you! 

23 


THE    BLOSSOMS   ON    THE    TREES 

Could  the  rhymer  only  wring 

All  the  sweetness  to  the  lees 
Of  all  the  kisses  clustering 

In  juicy  Used-to-bes, 
To  dip  his  rhymes  therein  and  sing 

The  blossoms  on  the  trees, — 
O  Blossoms  on  the  Trees," 

He  would  twitter,  trill,  and  coo, 
However  sweet,  such  songs  as  these 

Are  not  as  sweet  as  yon  :  — 
For  vou  are  blooming  melodies 

The  eyes  may  listen  to !  " 


24 


GRANNY 


GRANNY'S  come  to  our  house, 
And  ho  !  my  lawzy-daisy  ! 
All  the  childern  round  the  place 

Ts  ist  a-runnin'  crazy ! 
Fetched  a  cake  fer  little  Jake, 

And  fetched  a  pie  fer  Nanny, 
And  fetched  a  pear  fer  all  the  pack 
That  runs  to  kiss  their  Granny! 

Lucy  Ellen's  in  her  lap, 

And  Wade  and  Silas  Walker 
Both's   a-ridin'   on  her   foot, 

And  'Polios  on  the  rocker ; 
And   Marthy's  twins,  from  Aunt  Marinn's, 

And   little   Orphant   Annie, 
All's  a-eatin'  gingerbread 

And  giggle-un  at  Granny ! 

25 


Tells  us  all   the   fairy   tales 

Ever  thought  er  wtindcred  - 
And   'bundance  o'  other  stories  — 

Bet  she  knows   a  hunderd !  — 
Bob's  the  one  fcr  "  Whittington," 

And  "  Golden  Locks  "  fer  T7anny  ! 
Hear  'em  laugh  and  clap  their  hands, 

Listenin'  at  Granny  ! 

Jack  the  Giant-Killer  "  's  good  ; 

And  "  Bean-Stalk  "  's  another  '  - 
So's  the  one  of  "  Cinderell'  ' 

And  her  old  godmother  ;  — 
That-un's  best  of  all  the  rest  - 

Bestest  one  of  any. — 
Where  the  mices  scampers  home 

Like  we  runs  to  Granny ' 

Granny's  come  to  our  house, 

ITo  !  my  lawzy-daisy  ! 
All  the  childern  round  the  place 

Ts  ist  a-runnin'  crazy  ! 
Fetched  a  cake  fer  little  Jake, 

And  fetched  a  pie  fer  Nanny, 
And  fetched  a  pear  fer  all  the  pack 

That  runs  to  kiss  their  Granny ! 
26 


A  HYMB  OF  FAITH 

So    ran    the    honest,    earnest    prayer 
Of  old  Benj.  Johnson,  pleading  there 

OT1  K  )T  that  doth  all  things  devise 
And  fashon  for  the  best, 
He'p  us  who  sees  with  mortul  eyes 
To  overlook  the  rest. 

They's  times,  of  course,  we  grope  in  doubt, 

And  in  afflictions  sore  ; 
So  knock  the  louder,  Lord,  without, 

And  we'll  unlock  the  door. 

Make  us  to  feel,  when  times  looks  bad 

And  tears  in  pitty  melts, 
Thou  wast  the  only  he'])   \ve  had 

\Yhen  they  was  nothin'  else. 


A    IIYMB    OF    FAITH 

Death  comes  alike  to  ev'ry  man 
That  ever  was  horned  on  earth. ; 

Then  let  us  do  the  hest  we  can 
To  live  fer  all  life's  wurth. 

Ef  storms  and  tempusts  dred  to  see 
Makes  hlack  the  heavens  ore, 

They  done  the  same  in  Galilee 
Two  thousand  years  hefore. 

But  after  all,  the  golden  sun 
Poured  out  its  floods  on  them 

That  watched  and  waited  fer  the  One 
Then  horned  in  Rethlyham. 

Also,  the  star  of  Holy  \Yrit 
Made  noonday  of  the  night, 

Whilse  other  stars  that  looked  at  it 
Was  envious  with  delight. 

The  sages  then  in  wurship  bowed, 

From  ev'ry  clime  so  fare ; 
O,  sinner,  think  of  that  glad  crowd 

That  congergated  tharc ! 


A    HYMB    OF    FAITH 

Thev  was  content  to  fall  in  ranks 
\Yith  One  that  knowccl  the  way 

From  good  old  Jurden's  stormy  hanks 
Clean  up  to  Jedgmunt  Day. 

Xo  matter,  then,  how  all  is  mixed 

In  our  near-sighted  eyes, 
All  things  is  fer  the  hest,  and  fixed 

Out  straight  in  Paradise. 

Then  take  things  as  God  sends   'em  here 

And,  ef  we  live  er  die, 
P>e  more  and  more  contenteder, 

"Without  a-astin'   why. 

O   Thou  that  doth  all  things  devise 

And  fashon  fer  the  best, 
He'p  us  who  sees  with  mortul  eyes 

To  overlook  the  rest. 


THE  LOVELY  CHILD 


LILIES  arc  both  pure  and  fair, 
Growing  midst  the  roses  there 
Roses,  too,  both  red  and  pink, 
Are  quite  beautiful,  I  think. 

But   of  all   bright   blossoms  —  best  - 
Purest  —  fairest  —  loveliest, — 
Could  there  be  a  sweeter  thing 
Than  a  primrose,  blossoming? 

34 


AN  OLD  MAN'S  MEMORY 


THE  delights  of  our  childhood  is  soon  passed  away, 
And  our  gloryus  youth  it  departs, — 
And  yit,  dead  and  hurried,  they's  blossoms  of  May 

Ore  theyr  medderland  graves  in  our  harts. 
So,  friends  of  my  bare-footed  days  on  the  farm, 

Whether  truant  in  city  er  not, 
God  prosper  you,  same  as  He's  prosperin'  me, 
Whilse  your  past  haint  despised  er  fergot! 

37 


AN    OLD    MAN  S    MEMORY 

Oh  !  they's  nothin',  at  morn,  that's  as  grand  unto  me 

As  the  glory s  of  Nachur  so  fare, — 
With  the  Spring  in  the  breeze,  and  the  bloom  in  the  trees, 

And  the  hum  of  the  bees  ev'rywhcre ! 
The  green  in  the  woods,  and  the  birds  in  the  boughs, 

And  the  dew  spangled  over  the  fields ; 
And  the  bah  of  the  sheep  and  the  bawl  of  the  cows 

And  the  call  from  the  house  to  your  meals ! 

Then  ho!  fer  your  brekfast!  and  ho!  fer  the  toil 

That  waiteth  alike  man  and  beast ! 
Oh!  it's  soon  with  my  team  I'll  be  tnrnin'  up  soil, 

Whilse  the  sun  shoulders  up  in  the  East 
Ore  the  tops  of  the  ellums  and  beeches  and  oaks, 

To  smile  his  godspeed  on  the  plow, 
A.nd  the  furry  and  seed,  and  the  Man  in  his  need, 

And  the  joy  of  the  swet  of  his  brow ! 


MISTER  HOP-TOAD 

HO\YDY,   Mister  Hop-Toad !     Glad  to  see  you  out ! 
Bin  a  month  o'  Sund'ys  sencc  I  seen  you  hereabout. 
Kind  o'  bin  a-layin'  in,  from  the  frost  and  snow? 
Good  to  see  you  out  ag'in,  it's  bin  so  long  ago ! 
Plows  like  slicin'  cheese,  and  sod's  loppin'  over  even ; 
Loam's  like  gingerbread,  and  clods's  softern  deceivin' — • 
Mister      Hop-Toad,      honest-true  —  Springtime  —  don't 

you  love  it  ? 
You  old  rusty  rascal  you,  at  the  bottom  of  it ! 

Oh,  oh,  oh! 
I  grabs  up  my  old  hoe ; 
But  I   sees  you, 
And  s'  I,  "  Ooh-ooh ! 
Howdy,    Mister    Hop-Toad!     How-dee-do!" 


MISTER    HOP-TOAD 

Make  yourse'f  more  cumfo'bler  —  square  round  at  your 

ease  — 
Don't  set  saggin'  slanchwise,  with  your  nose  below  your 

knees. 
Swell  that   fat  old  throat  o'  yourn   and  lemme  see  yon 

swaller ; 
Straighten  up  and  h'ist  your  head  !  — •  Yon  don't  owe  a 

dollar !  - 

Hain't  no  mor'gage  on  your  land  —  ner  no  taxes,  nuther ; 
You  don't  haf  to  work  no  roads  —  even  ef  you'd  ruthcr  ! 
'F  I  was  you,  and  fixed  like  you,  T  railly  wouldn't  keer 
To  swop  fer  life  and  hop  right  in  the  presidential  cheer! 

Oh.  oh,  oh! 

T  hauls  back  my  old  hoe ; 
But  T  sees  yon, 
And  s'  I,  "  Ooh-ooh ! 
TTowdy,    Mister    Hop-Toad!     How-dee-do!" 

Long  about  next  Aprile,  hoppin'  down  the  furry, 
Won't    you    mind    T    ast    you    what    'pearcd    to    be    the 

hurry?  — 
Won't  you  mind  T  hooked  my  hoe  and  hauled  you  back 

and  smiled  ?  — 
W'y,  bless  you,  Mister  Hop-Toad,  T  love  you  like  a  child ! 

42 


*     : 


MISTER    HOP-TOAL) 

S'posc  I'd  want  to  'flict  you  any  morc'n  what  you  air?  — 
S'pose   I   think  you   got   no  rights   'cept  the   warts   you 

wear  ? 

Hulk,  sulk,  and  blink  away,  you  old  bloat-eyed  rowdy!  — 
Hain't  you   got  a   word    to   say  ?  —  Won't  you   tell    me 

"Howdy"? 

Oh,  oh,  oh ! 

I   swish  round  my  old  hoe ; 
But  I   sees  yon, 
And  s'  I,  "  Ooh-ooh ! 
Howdy,    Mister    Hop-Toad !     How-dee-do !  " 


45 


LAUGHTER 


WITHIN  the  cosiest  corner  of  my  dreams 
He  sits,  high-throned  above  all  gods  that  be 

Portrayed  in  marble-cold  mythology, 
Since  from  his  joyous  eyes  a  twinkle  gleams 
So  warm  with  life  and  light  it  ever  seems 

Spraying  in  mists  of  sunshine  over  me, 

And  mingled  with  such  rippling  ecstasy 
As  overleaps  his  lips  in  laughing  streams. 

Ho !  look  on  him,  and  say  if  he  be  old 
Or  youthful !     Hand   in   hand   with   gray   old   Time 

He  toddled  when  an  infant ;  and,  behold  !  — 
He  hath  not  aged,  but  to  the  lusty  prime 

Of  babyhood,- — his  brow  a  trifle  bold  — 
His  hair  a  ravelled  nimbus  of  gray  gold. 

46 


THE  LITTLE-RED-APPLE  TREE 


Tl  I  ]•:  Little-red-apple  Tree  !  - 
O  The  Little-red-apple  Tree! 
\Yhen  I  was  the  Httle-est  bit  of  a  boy 

And  you  were  a  boy  with  me ! 
The   bluebird's   flight   from   the   topmost   boughs. 

And  the  boys  up  there  —  so  high 
That  we  rocked  over  the  roof  of  the  house 
And  whooped  as  the  winds  went  by ! 

47 


THE    LITTLE-RED-APPLE    TREE 

Hey !   The  Little-red-apple  Tree  ! 

"\Yith  the  garden-beds  below, 
•And   the  old   grape-arbor   so   wclcomely 

Hiding  the  rake  and  hoe ! 
Hiding,  too,  as  the  sun  dripped  through 

In  spatters  of  wasted  gold, 
Frank  and  Amy  away  from  you 

And  me  in  the  days  of  old ! 

The  Little-red-apple  Tree  !  • — 

In  the  edge  of  the  garden-spot, 
"Where  the  apples  fell  so  lavishly 

Into  the  neighbor's  lot ;  — 
So  do  I  think  of  you  alway. 

Brother  of  mine,  as  the  tree,- — 
Giving  the  ripest  wealth  of  your  love 

To  the  world  as  well  as  me. 

Ho  !  The  Little-red-apple  Tree  ! 

Sweet  as  its  juiciest  fruit 
Spanged  on  the  palate  spicily, 

And  rolled  o'er  the  tongue  to  boot,. 
Is  the  memory  still  and  the  joy 

Of  The  Lit 'de-red-apple  Tree, 
When  I  was  the  little-est  bit  of  a  boy 

And  vou  were  a  bov  with  me ! 


WHO  BIDES  HIS  TIME 


WHO  bides  bis  time,  and  clay  by  day 
Eaces  defeat  full  patiently, 
And  lifts  a  mirthful  roundelay, 

However  poor  his  fortunes  be, — 
He  will  not  fail  in  any  qualm 

Of  poverty  —  the  paltry  dime 

It  will  i^row  golden  in  his  palm, 

Who  bides  his  time. 

51 


WHO    BIDES    HIS    TIME 

Who  bides  his  time  —  he  tastes  the  sweet 

Of  honey  in  the  saltest  tear ; 
And  though  he  fares  with  slowest  feet, 

Joy  runs  to  meet  him,  drawing  near; 
The  birds  are  heralds  of  his  cause ; 

And,  like  a  never-ending  rhyme, 
The  roadsides  bloom  in  his  applause 
Who  bides  his  time. 

Who  bides  his  time,  and  fevers  not 
In  the  hot  race  that  none  achieves, 

Shall  wear  cool-wreathen  laurel,  wrought 
With  crimson  berries  in  the  leaves ; 

And  he  shall  reign  a  goodly  king. 
And  sway  his  hand  o'er  every  clime 

With  peace  writ  on  his  signet-ring, 
Who  bides  his  time. 


BABYHOOD 


HETGIT-TTO!  Babyhood!     Toll  me  where  you  linger! 
Let's  toddle  borne  again,  for  we  have  gone  astray; 
Take  this  eager  band  of  mine  and  lead  me  by  the  finger 
Back  to  the  lotus-lands  of  the  far-away ! 

Turn  back  the  leaves  of  life. —  Don't  read  the  story. — 
Let's  find  the  pictures,  and  fancy  all  the  rest ; 

\Ye  can  fill  the  written  pages  with  a  brighter  glory 
Than  old  Time,  the  story-teller,  at  his  very  best. 

55 


BABYHOOD 

Turn  to  the  brook  where  the  honeysuckle  tipping 
O'er  its  vase  of  perfume  spills  it  on  the  breeze, 

And  the  bee  and  humming-bird  in  ecstasy  are  sipping 
From  the  fairy-flagons  of  the  blooming  locust-trees. 

Turn  to  the  lane  where  we  used  to  "  teeter-totter." 
Printing  little  foot-palms  in  the  mellow  mould  — 

Laughing  at  the  lazy  cattle  wading  in  the  water 

Where  the  ripples  dimple  round  the  buttercups  of  gold 

"Where  the  dusky  turtle  lies  basking  on  the  gravel 
Of  the  sunny  sand-bar  in  the  middle  tide, 

And  the  ghostly  dragon-fly  pauses  in  his  travel 
To  rest  like  a  blossom  where  the  water-lily  died. 

Heigh-ho !  Babyhood !     Tell  me  where   you  linger ! 

Let's  toddle  home  again,  for  we  have  gone  astray ; 
Take  this  eager  hand  of  mine  and  lead  me  by  the  finger 

Back  to  the  lotus-lands  of  the  far-awav ! 


OLTR  QUEER  OLD  WORLD 

Per  them  'at's  here  in  'dirtiest  infant  stages, 

It's  a  hard  world: 
Per  them  'at  gits  the  knocks  of  boyhood's  ages, 

It's  a  mean  world: 
Per  them  'at  nothin's  good  enough  they're  gittin', 

It's  a  baa  world: 
Per  then;  'at  learns  at  last  what's  right  am!  fittin', 

It's  a  good  world. 

THE  HIRED  MAN. 

IT'S  a  purty  hard  world  you  find,  my  child  — 
It's  a  purty  hard  world  you  find ! 
You  fight,  little  rascal !  and  kick  and  squall, 
And  snort  out  medicine,  spoon  and  all ! 

\Yhen  you're  here  longer  you'll  change  yer  mind 
And   simmer   down  sorto'  half-rickonciled. 
But  now  —  Jee!- 
."l/y.'-mun-nee ! 
It's  a  purty  hard  world,  my  child! 

59 


OUR    QUEER    OLD    WORLD 

It's  a  purty  mean  world  you're  in,  my  lad  — 

It's  a  purty  mean  world  you're  in  ! 
We  know,  of  course,  in  your  schoolboy-days 
It's  a  world  of  too  many  troublesome  ways 
Of  tryin'  things  over  and  startin'  ag'in, — 
Yit  your  chance  beats  what  your  parents  had. 
But  ;/oTC'  —  O! 
Fire-and-tow  ! 
It's  a  purty  mean  world,  my  lad ! 

It's  a  purty  bad  world  you've  struck,  young-  chap  — 

It's  a  purty  bad  world  you've  struck  — 
But  study  the  cards  that  you  hold,  you  know, 
And  your  hopes  will  sprout  and  your  mustache  grow. 
And    your    store-clothes    likely    will    change    your 

luck, 
And  you'll  rake  a  rich  ladybird  into  yer  lap ! 

But  7/07C' — Doubt 

All  things  out. — 
It's  a  purty  mean  world,  young  chap ! 


OUR    QUL.ER   OLD    WORLD 

It's  a  purty  good  world  this  Is,  old  mail  — 

It's  a  purty  good  world  this  is ! 
For  all  its  follies  and  shows  and  lies  — 
It's  rainy  weather,  and  cheeks  likewise, 

And  age,  hard-hearin'  and  rheumatiz. — 
We're  not  a-faultin'  the  Lord's  own  plan  — 
All  things  jest 
At  their  best. — 
It's  a  purty  good  world,  old  man ! 


THE  FIRST  BLUEBIRD 

The  very  first  bluebird  of  Spring, 

As  old  Bcnj.   Johnson  heard  him  sing. 

JEST  rain  and  snow !  and  rain  again  ! 
And  dribble !  drip  !  and  blow ! 
Then  snow !  and  thaw !  and  slush !  and  the; 
Some  more  rain  and  snow ! 

This  morning  I  was  'most  afeard 

To  wake  up  —  when,  i  jing! 
I  seen  the  sun  shine  out  and  heerd 

The  first  bluebird  of  Spring !  — 
Mother  she'd  raised  the  winder  some;  — 
And  in  acrost  the  orchurd  come. 

Soft  as  a  angel's  wing, 
A  breezy,  treesy,  beesy  hum, 

Too  sweet  fer  anything ! 

The  winter's  shroud  was  rent  a-part  — 

The  sun  bust  forth  in  glee, — 
And  when  that  bluebird. sung,  my  har* 

Hopped  out  o'  bed  with  me! 

64 


MY  PHILOSOFY 

F     A I  XT.  ncr  don't  p'tcnd  to  be, 

Much  posted  on  philosofy  ; 
P)iit  thare  is  times  when,  all  alone, 
I  work  out  idees  of  my  own. 
And  of  these  same  thare  is  a  few 
I'd  like  to  jest  refer  to  you — 
Pervidin'  that  you  don't  object 
To  listen  clos't  and  rickollect. 

67 


MY    PH1LOSOFY 

I  allus  argy  that  a  man 
Who  does  about  the  best  he  can 
Is  plenty  good  enugh  to  suit 
This  lower  mundane  institute  — 
No  matter  ef  his  daily  walk 
Is  subject  fer  his  neghbor's  talk, 
And  critic-minds  of  ev'ry  whim 
Jest  all  git  up  and  go  fer  him ! 

I  knowed  a  feller  onc't  that  had 
The  yeller-janders  mighty  bad, — 
And  each  and  ev'ry  friend  he'd  meet 
Would  stop  and  give  him  some  receet 
Fer  cuorin'  of  'em.     But  he'd  say 
He  kinclo'  thought  they'd  go  away 
Without  no  median',  and  boast 
That  he'd  git  well  without  one  doste. 

He  kep'  a-yellerin'  on  —  and  they 
Perdict:*i'  that  he'd  die  some  day 
Before  he  knowed  it!     Tuk  his  bed, 
The  feller  did.  and  lost  his  head 
And  wunderet  ii  his  mind  a  spell  — 
Then  rallied,  and,  at  last,  got  well ; 
But  ev'ry  friend  that  said  he'd  die 
Went  back  on  him  eternahy ! 


MY    PHILOSOFY 

Its  natchurl  enugh,  I  guess, 

When  some  gits  more  and  some  gits  less, 

.Per  them-uns  on  the  slimmest  side 

To  claim  it  ain't  a  fare  divide ; 

And  I've  knowed  some  to  lay  and  wait, 

And  git  up  soon,  and  set  up  late, 

To  ketch  some  feller  they  could  hate 

Fer  goin'  at  a  faster  gait. 

The  signs  is  bad  when  folks  commence 

A-findin'  fault  with  Providence, 

And  balkin'  'cause  the  earth  don't  shake 

At  ev'ry  prancin'  step  they  take. 

No  man  is  grate  tel  he  can  see 

How  less  than  little  he  would  be 

Ef  stripped  to  self,  and  stark  and  bare 

He  hung  his  sign  out  anywhare. 

My  doctern  is  to  lay  aside 
Contensions,  and  be  satisfied  : 
Jest  do  your  best,  and  praise  er  blame 
That  f oilers  that,  counts  jest  the  same. 
I've  allus  noticed  grate  success 
Is  mixed  with  troubles,  more  er  less, 
And  it's  the  man  who  does  the  best 
That  gits  more  kicks  than  all  the  rest. 
71 


A  SONG  OF  THE  ROAD 


WILL  walk  with  you,  my  lad,  whichever  way  you 

fare, 
You'll  have  me,  too,  the  side  o'  you,  with  heart  as  light 

as  air ; 
No  care  for  where  the  road  you  take's  a-leadin'' —  any- 

where, — 

It  can  but  be  a  joyful  ja'nt  the  whilst  yon  journey  there. 
The  road  you  take's  the  path  o'  love,  an'  that's  the  bridth 

o'  two  — 
An'  I  will  walk  with  you,  my  lad  —  O  I  will  walk  with 

you. 

Ho !  I  will  walk  with  you,  my  lad, 

Be  weather  black  or  blue 
Or  roadsides  frost  or  dew,  my  lad  — 

O  I  will  walk  with  vou. 


72 


- 


A    SONG   OF   THE   ROAD 

Aye,  glad,  my  ladv  I'll  walk   with  you,  whatever  winds 

ma}'  blow, 
Or  summer  blossoms  stay  our  steps,  or  blinding  drifts  of 

snow ; 
The  way  that  you  set  face  an'  foot  's  the  way  that  I 

will  go, 
An'  brave  I'll  be,  abreast  o'  ye,  the   Saints   in'  Angels 

know  ! 
With   loyal  hand   in   loyal  hand,  an'  one  heart  made  o' 

two, 
Through  summer's  gold,  or  winter's  cold,  it's  T  will  walk 

with  you. 

Sure,  T  will  walk  with  you,  my  lad, 

As  love  ordains  me  to, — 
To  Heaven's  door,  an'  through,  my  lad. 

O  I  will  walk  with  you. 


75 


AWAY 

j    CANNOT  say,  and  I  will  not  say 

That  he  is  dead. — He  is   just  away! 

\Yith  a  cheery  smile,  and  a  wave  of  the  hand; 
He  has  wandered  into  an  unknown  land, 

And  left  us  dreaming  how  very  fair 
It  needs  must  he,  since  he  lingers  there. 

And  you  —  O  you,  who  the  wildest  yearn 
For  the  old-time  step  and  the  glad  return, — 

Think  of  him  faring  on,  as  dear 

In  the  love  of  There  as  the  love  of  Here ; 

And  loyal  still,  as  he  gave  the  blows 

Of  his  warrior-strength  to  his  country's  foes.- 

76 


AWAY 


Mild  and  gentle,  as  he  was  brave, — 
When  the  sweetest  love  of  his  life  he  gave 

To  simple  things  :  —  Where  the  violets  grew 
Blue  as  the  eyes  they  were  likened  to, 


The  touches  of  his  hands  have  strayed 
As  reverently  as  his  lips  have  prayed : 

When  the  little  brown  thrush  that  harshly  chirred 
Was  dear  to  him  as  the  mocking-bird ; 

And  he  pitied  as  much  as  a  man  in  pain 
A  writhing  honey-bee  wet  with  rain. — 

Think  of  him  still  as  the  same,  I  say : 
lie  is  not  dead  —  he  is  just  away! 


79 


THE  LIGHT  OF  LOVE 

THE  clouds  have  deepened   o'er  the  night 
Till,  through  the  dark  profound, 
The  moon  is  but  a  stain  of  light 

And  all  the  stars  are  drowned ; 
And  all  the  stars  are  drowned,  my  love, 

And  all  the  skies  are  drear ; 
But  what  care  we  for  light  above, 
If  light  of  love  is  here? 

The  wind  is  like  a  wounded  thing 

That  beats  about  the  gloom 
With  baffled  breast  and  drooping  wing 

And  wail  of  deepest  doom  ; 
And  wail  of  deepest  doom,  my  love ; 

But  what  have  we  to  fear 
From  night,  or  rain,  or  winds  above, 

With  love  and  laughter  here? 

80 


EffF 


THE  ALL-GOLDEN 
I 

THROUGH  every  happy  line  I  sing 
I  feel  the  tonic  of  the  Spring. 
The  clay  is  like  an  old-time  face 
That  gleams  across  some  grassy  place ; 
An  old-time  face  —  an  old-time  chum 
Who  rises  from  the  grave  to  come 
And  lure  me  hack  along  the  ways 
Of  time's  all-golden  yesterdays. 
Sweet  day !  to  thus  remind  me  of 
The  truant  hoy  I  used  to  love  — 
To  set  once  more  his  finger-tips 
Against  the  hlossom  of  his  lips, 
And  pipe  for  me  the  signal  known 
By  none  but  him  and  me  alone ! 

83 


THE    ALL-GOLDEN 


II 


I  see,  across  the  school-room  floor, 

The  shadow  of  the  open  door, 

And  dancing  dust  and  sunshine  blent 

Slanting-  the  way  the  morning  went, 

And  beckoning  my  thoughts  afar 

Where  reeds  and  running  waters  are ; 

Where  amber-colored  bayous  glass 

The  half-drown'd  weeds  and  wisps  of  grass 

Where    sprawling    frogs,    in    loveless    key, 

Sing  on  and  on  incessantly. 

Against   the   green   wood's   dim   expanse 

The  cattail  tilts  its  tufted  lance, 

While  on  its  tip  —  one  might  declare 

The  white  "  snake-feeder  "  blossomed  there 

III 

I  catch  my  breath  as  children  do 
In  woodland  swings  when  life  is  new 
And  all  the  blood  is  warm  as  wine 
And  tingles  with  a  tang  divine, 

84 


THE   ALL-GOLDEN 

My  soul  soars  up  the  atmosphere 

And  sings  aloud  where  God  can  hear, 

And  all  my  being  leans  intent 

To  mark  His  smiling  wonderment. 

O  gracious  dream,  and  gracious  time, 

And  gracious  theme,  and  gracious  rhyme 

"\Yhen  buds  of  Spring  begin  to  blow 

In  blossoms  that  we  used  to  know 

And  lure  us  back  along  the  ways 

Of  time's  all-golden  yesterdays ! 


UNLESS 

WHO  has  not  wanted,  docs  not  guess 
What  plenty  is. —  Who  has  not  groped 
In  depths  of  doubt  and  hopelessness, 

Has  never  truly  hoped. — 
Unless,  sometimes,  a  shadow  falls 
Upon  his  mirth,  and  veils  his  sight, 
And  from  the  darkness  drifts  the  light 
Of  love  at  intervals. 

And  that  most  dear  of  everything, 

I  hold,  is  love  ;  and  who  can  sit 
With  lightest  heart  and  laugh  and  sing, 

Knows  not  the  worth  of  it. — 
Unless,  in  some  strange  throng,  perchance; 

He  feels  how  thrilling  sweet  it  is, 

One  yearning  look  that  answers  his  — 
The  troth  of  glance  and  glance. 

Who  knows  not  pain,  knows  not,  alas ! 

What  pleasure  is. —  Who  knows  not  of 
The  bitter  cup  that  will  not   pass, 

Knows  not  the  taste  of  love. 
O  souls  that  thirst,  and  hearts  that  fast, 
And  natures  faint  with   famishing, 
God  lift  and  lead  and  safely  bring 
You  to  your  own  at  last ! 
88 


WHATEVER  TTTE  WEATHER  MAY  BE 


"\A7IIATEVE 

VV       "  Whatc 


'IIATEVER  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he  - 

"hatever  the  weather  may  be, 
It's  plaze,  if  ye  will,  an'  I'll  say  me  say,— 
Supposin'  to-day  was  the  winterest  day, 
Wud  the  weather  be  changing  because  ye  cried, 
Or  the  snow  be  grass  were  ye  crucified? 
The  best  is  to  make  yer  own  summer,"  says  he, 
"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he  - 
"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be  \ 


WHATEVER    THE    WEATHER    MAY    BE 

"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he  — 

"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be, 
It's  the  songs  ye  sing,  an'  the  smiles  ye  wear, 
That's  a-makin'  the  sun  shine  everywhere ; 
An'  the  world  of  gloom  is  a  world  of  glee, 
Wid  the  bird  in  the  bush,  an'  the  bud  in  the  tree, 
An'  the  fruit  on  the  stim  o'  the  bough,"  says  he, 
"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he  — 
"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be ! 

"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he  — 

"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be, 
Ye  can  bring  the  Spring,  wid  its  green  an'  gold. 
An'  the  grass  in  the  grove  where  the  snow  lies  cold 
An'  ye'll  warm  yer  back,  wid  a  smiling  face, 
As  ye  sit  at  yer  heart,  like  an  owld  fire-place, 
An'  toast  the  toes  o'  yer  sowl,"  says  he, 
'Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he — = 
"  Whatever  the  weather  mav  be !  " 


A  SUMMER'S  DAY 

A  summer  day  —  so  seems  it, 
As  old  Bcnj.  Johnson  dreams  it. 

THE   Summer's  putt   the   idy   in 
My  head  that  I'm  a  boy  again; 
And  all  around's  so  bright  and  gay 
T  want  to  putt  my  team  away. 
And  jest  git  out  wharc  I  can  lay 
And  soak  my  hide  full  of  the  day  ! 
But  work  is  work,  and  must  be  done  — 
Yit,  as  I  work,  I  have  my  fun. 
Jest   fancyin'  these  furries  here 
Is  childhood's  paths  onc't  more  so  dear :  — 
And  so  I  walk  through  medder-lands, 

And  country  lanes,  and  swampy  trails 
Whare  long  bullrushes  bresh  my  hands ; 
And,  tilted  on  the  ridered  rails 

Of  deadnin'  fences,  "Old  Bob  White" 
Whissels  his  name  in  high  delight 
And  whirrs  away.     I  wunder  still, 
Whichever  way  a  boy's  feet  will  — 

95 


A    SUMMERS    DAY 

Whare  trees  has  fell,  with   tangled  tops 

Whare  dead  leaves  shakes,  I  stop  fer  breth, 
Heerin'  the  acorn  as  it  drops  — 

H'istin'  my  chin  up  still  as  dcth, 
And  watchin'  clos't,  with  upturned  eyes, 
The  tree  where  Mr.  Squirrel  tries 
To  hide  hisse'f  above  the  limb, 
But  lets  his  own  tale  tell  on  him. 
I  wuncler  on  in  deeper  glooms  — 

Git  hungry,  hearin'  female  cries 
From  old   farm-houses,  whare  perfumes 

Of  harvest  dinners  seems  to  rise 
And  ta'nt  a  feller,  hart  and  brane, 
With  memories  he  can't  explane. 

I  wunder  through  the  underbresh, 

Whare  pig-tracks,  pintin'  to'rds  the  crick 
Is  picked  and  printed  in  the  fresh 

Black  bottom-lands,  like  wimmern  pick 
Theyr  pie-crusts  with  a  fork,  some  way. 
When  bakin'   fer  camp-meetin'  day. 
I  wunder  on  and  on  and  on, 
Tel  my  gray  hair  and  beard  is  gone 


Q6 


A    SUMMER  S    DAY 

And  ev'ry  wrinkle  on  my  brow 
Is  rubbed  clean  out  and  shaddered  now 
"\Yith  curls  as  brown  and  fare  and  fine 
As  tenderls  of  the  wild  grape-vine 
That  ust  to  climb  the  highest  tree 
To  keep  the  ripest  ones  fer  me. 
I  wunder  still,  and  here  I  am 
\Yadin*  the  ford  below  the  dam  — 
The  worter  chucklin'  round  my  knee 

At  hornet-welt  and  bramble-scratch, 
And  me  a-slippin'  'crost  to  see 

Ef  Tyner's  plums  is  ripe,  and  size 
The  old  man's  wortermelon-patch, 

\Yith  juicy  mouth  and  drouthy  eyes. 
Then,  after  sich  a  day  of  mirth 
And  happiness  as  worlds  is  wurth  — 

So  tired  that  heaven  seems  nigh  about,- 
The  sweetest  tiredness  on  earth 

Is  to  git  home  and  flatten  out  — 
So  tired  you  can't  lay  flat  enugh, 
And  sorto'  wish  that  you  could  spred 
Out  like  molasses  on  the  bed 
And  jest  drip  off  the  aidges  in 
The  dreams  that  never  comes  again. 


THE  FUNNIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 


THE  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  I  know, 
Is  watchin'  the  monkeys  'at's  in  the  show  !  — 
Jumpin'  an'  runnin'  an'  racin'  roun', 
'Way  up  the  top  o'  the  pole ;  nen  down ! 
First  they're  here,  an'  nen  they're  there, 
An'  ist  a'most  any  an'  ever'\vhere !  — 
Screechin'  an'  scratchin'  where«ver  they  go,    ' 
They're  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  T  know! 

They're  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  I  think  :  — 

Funny  to  watch  'em  eat  an'  drink ; 

Funny  to  watch  'em  a-watchin'  us, 

An'  actin'  most  like  growTn  folks  does !  — 

Funny  to  watch  'em  p'tend  to  be 

Skeerd  at  their  tail  'at  they  happen  to  see ;  — 

But  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world  they  do 

Is  never  to  laugh,  like  me  an'  you ! 

IOO 


MY  FIDDLE 

Old  Bcnj.  Johnsons  fiddle-playin' 
'S  most  as  common   as  he's  sayin'. 

MY   fiddle ?  —  Well,   I  kindo'  keep  her  handy,  don't 
you  know ! 
Though  I  ain't  so  much  inclined  to  tromp  the  strings  and 

switch  the  bow 

As  I  was  before  the  timber  of  my  elbows  got  so  dry, 
And  my  fingers  was  more  limber-like  and  capensh  and 
spry  ; 

Yit  I  can  plonk  and  plunk  and  plink, 

And  tune  her  up  and  play, 
And  jest  lean  back  and  laugh  and  wink 
At  ev'rv  rainy  dav ! 


MY    FIDDLE 

My  playin'  's  only  middlin' — tunes  I  picked  up  when  a 

boy  — 
The   kindo'-sorto'    fiddlin1    that   the    folks    calls    "  corda- 

roy"; 
"  The  Old  Fat  Gal,"  and  "Rye-straw,"  and  "  My  Sail- 

yor's  on  the  Sea," 

Is  the  old  cowtillions  7  "  saw  "  when  the  ch'ice  is  left  tn 
me; 

And  so  I  plunk  and  plonk  and  plink 

And   rosum-np  my  bow 
And  play  the  tunes  that  makes  you  think 
The  devil's  in  vour  toe ! 


I  was  allus  a  romancin',  do-less  boy,  to  tell  the  truth, 
A-fiddlin'  and  a-dancin',  and  a-wastin'  of  my  youth, 
And  a-actin'  and  a-cuttin'-up  all  sorts  o'  silly  pranks 
That  wasn't  worth  a  button  o'  anybody's  thanks! 
But  they  tell  me,  when  I  ust  to  plink 

And  plonk  and  plunk  and  play, 
Mv  music  seemed  to  have  the  kink 
O'  drivin'  cares  awav ! 


104 


MY    FIDDLE 

That's  how  this  here  old  fiddle's  won  my  hart's  indurin' 

love !  - 
From  the  strings  acrost  her   middle,   to  the  schreechin' 

keys  above  — 
From   her   "  apern/'   over   "  bridge,"   and   to  the   ribbon 

round  her  throat, 

She's  a  wooin',  cooin'  pigeon,  singin'  "  Love  me  "  ev'ry 
note! 

And  so  I  pat  her  neck,  and  plink 
Her  strings  with  lovin'  hands, — 
And,  list'nin'  clos't,  I  sometimes  think 
She  kindo'  understands ! 


107 


THE  HEREAFTER 

HEREAFTER!     O   we  need  not  waste 
Our  smiles  or  tears,  whate'er  befall : 
No  happiness  but  holds  a  taste 

Of  something  sweeter,  after  all ;  — 
No  depth  of  agony  but  feels 

Some  fragment  of  abiding  trust, — 
Whatever  death  unlocks  or  seals, 
The  mute  Beyond  is  just. 

1 08 


WE  TO  SIGH  INSTEAD  OF  SING 

i  t  r)  AIN  and  rain!  and  rain  and  rain!" 

1  \      Yesterday  we  muttered 
Grimly  as  the  grim  refrain 

That  the  thunders  uttered  : 
All  the  heavens  under  cloud - 

All  the  sunshine  sleeping; 
All  the  grasses  limply  bowed 

With  their  weight  of  weeping. 

109 


WE   TO   SIGH    INSTEAD   OF   SING 

Sigh  and  sigh !  and  sigh  and  sigh ! 

Never  end  of  sighing; 
Rain  and  rain  for  our  reply  — 

Hopes  half-drowned  and  dying; 
Peering  through  the  window-pane, 

Naught  but  endless  raining  — 
Endless  sighing,  and,  as  vain, 

Endlessly  complaining. 

Shine  and  shine!  and  shine  and  shine! 

Ah  !  to-day  the  splendor  !  — 
All  this  glory  yours  and  mine — • 

God !  but  God  is  tender ! 
We  to  sigh  instead  of  sing, 

Yesterday,  in  sorrow, 
While  the  Lord  was  fashioning 

This  for  our  To-morrow ! 


TIO 


DAN  PAINE 


OLD  friend  of  mine,  whose  chiming  name 
Has  been  the  burthen  of  a  rhyme 
Within  my  heart  since  first  I  came 
To  know  thee  in  thy  mellow  prime: 
With  warm  emotions  in  my  breast 
That  can  but  coldly  be  expressed, 
And  hopes  and  wishes  wild  and  vain, 
I  reach  my  hand  to  thee,  Dan  Paine. 

in 


DAN    PAINE 

In  fancy,  as  I  sit  alone 

In   gloomy   fellowship   with   care, 
I  hear  again  thy  cheery  tone. 

And  wheel  for  thee  an  easy  chair ; 

And  from  my  hand  the  pencil  falls  — 
My  book  upon  the  carpet  sprawls, 
As   eager  soul  and  heart  and  brain, 
Leap  up  to  welcome  thee,  Dan  Paine. 

A  something  gentle  in  thy  mien, 

A  something  tender  in  thy  voice, 
Has  made  my  trouble  so  serene, 
I  can  but  weep,   from  very  choice. 
And  even  then  my  tears,  I  guess, 
Hold  more  of  sweet  than  bitterness, 
And  more  of  gleaming  shine  than  rain, 
Because   of   thy   bright   smile    Dan    Paine. 

The  wrinkles  that  the  years  have  spun 

And  tangled  round  thy  tawny  face, 
Are  kinked  with  laughter,  every  one, 
And  fashioned  in  a  mirthful  grace : 
And  though  the  twinkle  of  thine  eyes 
Is  keen  as  frost  when  Summer  dies, 
It  can  not  long  as  frost  remain 
While  thy  warm  soul  shines  out,  Dan  Paine. 
112 


DAN    PAINE 

And  so  I  drain  a  health  to  thce :  — • 

May  merry  Joy  and  jolly  Mirth 
Like  children  clamber  on  thy  knee, 
And  ride  thee  round  the  happy  earth ! 
And  when,  at  last,  the  hand  of  Fate 
Shall  lift  the  latch  of  Canaan's  gate 
And  usher  me  in  thy  domain, 
Smile  on  me  just  as  now,  Dan  Paine. 


DAWN,  NOON  AND  DEWFALL 
I 

DAWN,  noon  and  dewfall !     ]>luebinl  and  robin 
Up  and  at  it  airly,  and  the  orchard-blossoms  bob 
bin'! 

Peekin'  from  the  winder,  half-awake,  and  wishin' 
I  could  go  to  sleep  ag'in  as  well  as  go  a-fishin' ! 

II 

On  the  apern  o'  the  dam,  legs  a-danglin'  over, 
Drowsy-like  with  sound  o'  worter  and  the  smell  o'  clover : 
Fish  all  out  a-visitin' — "cept  some  dratted  minnor ! 
Yes,  and  mill  shet  down  at  last   and  hands  is  gone  to 
dinner. 

Ill 

Trompin'    home    acrost    the    fields :     Lightnin'-bugs    a- 

blinkin' 
In  the  wheat  like  sparks  o'  things  feller  keeps  a-think- 

in' : — 
Mother  waitin'  supper,   and  the  childern  there  to  cherr 

me ; 
And  fiddle  on  the  kitchen-wall  a-jist  a-eechin'  fer  me! 

116 


KISSING  THE  ROD 

O    HEART  of  mine,  we  shouldn't 
Worry  so ! 
"What  we've  missed  of  calm  we  couldn't 

Have,  you  know ! 
What  we've  met  of  stormy  pain, 
And  of  sorrow's  driving  rain, 
We  can  better  meet  again, 
If  it  blow! 

We  have  erred  in  that  dark  hour 

We  have  known, 
When  our  tears  fell  with  the  shower. 

All  alone !  — 

Were  not  shine  and  shower  blent 
As  the  gracious  Master  meant?  — 
Let  us  temper  our  content 

With  His  own. 

For,  we  know,  not  every  morrow 

Can  be  sad ; 
So,  forgetting  all  the  sorrow 

We  have  had, 

Let  us  fold  away  our  fears, 
And  put  by  our  foolish  tears, 
And  through  all  the  coming  years 

Just  be  glad. 
119 


AT  UTTER  LOAF 


AN  afternoon  as  ripe  with  heat 
As  might  the  golden  pippin  he 
With  mellowness  if  at  my  feet 

It  dropped  now   from  the  apple-tree 
My  hammock  swings  in  lazily. 

II 

The  boughs  about  me  spread  a  shade 

That  shields  me  from  the  sun,  but  weaves 
With  breezy  shuttles  through  the  leaves 

Blue  rifts  of  skies,  to  gleam  and  fade 
Upon  the  eyes  that  only  see 
Just  of  themselves,  all  drowsily 

120 


AT    UTTER    LOAF 
III 

Above  me  drifts  the  fallen  skein 

Of  some  tired  spider,  looped  and  blown, 

As  fragile  as  a  strand  of  rain, 

Across  the  air,  and  upward  thrown 
By  breaths  of  hayfiekls  newly  mown  — 

So  glimmering'  it  is  and  fine, 

I  doubt  these  drowsy  eyes  of  mine. 

IV 

Far-off  and  faint  as  voices  pent 

In  mines    and  heard  from  underground, 
Come  murmurs  as  of  discontent, 

And  clamorings  of   sullen   sound 
The  city  sends  me,  as,  I  guess, 

To  vex  me,  though  they  do  but  bless 
Me  in  my  drowsy  fastnesses. 

V 

I  have  no  care.     I  only  know 

My  hammock  hides  and  holds  me  here 
In  lands  of  shade  a  prisoner: 
"While  lazily  the  breezes  blow 

Light  leaves  of  sunshine  over  me, 
And  back  and  forth  and  to  and  fro 

I  swing,  enwrapped  in  some  hushed   glee, 
Smiling  at  all  things  drowsily. 

123 


A  BOY'S  MOTHER 

MY  Mother  she's  so  good  to  me, 
Ef  I  was  good  as  I  could  be, 
I  couldn't  be  as  good  —  no,  sir!  — 
Can't  any  boy  be  good  as  her ! 

She  loves  me  when  I'm  glad  er  sad; 
She  loves  me  when  I'm  good  er  bad; 
An',  what's  a  funniest  thing,  she  says 
She  loves  me  when  she  punishes. 

I  don't  like  her  to  punish  me. — 
That  don't  hurt, —  but  it  hurts  to  see 
Her  cryin'. — Nen  /  cry ;  an'  nen 
We  bofc  cry  an'  be  good  again. 

She  loves  me  when   she  cuts  an'  sews 
My  little  cloak  an'  Sund'y  clothes ; 
An'  when  my  Pa  comes  home  to  tea, 
She  loves  him  most  as  much  as  me. 

She  laughs  an'  tells  him  all  I  said, 
An'  grabs  me  up  an'  pats  my  head; 
An'  I  hug  her,  an'  hug  my  Pa 
An'  love  him  purt'  nigh  much  as  Ma. 

124 


EXCEEDING  ALL 


LONG  LIFE'S  a  lovely  thing  to  know, 
With  lovely  health  and  wealth,   forsooth, 
And  lovely  name  and  fame  —  Cut  O 

The  loveliness  of  Youth ! 

127 


WHILE  THE  HEART  BEATS  YOUNG 


WHILE  the  heart  beats  young !  —  O  the  splendor  of 
the  Spring, 

With  all  her  dewy  jewels  on,  is  not  so  fair  a  thing! 
The  fairest,  rarest  morning  of  the  blossom-time  of  May 
Is  not  so  sweet  a  season  as  the  season  of  to-day 
While  Youth's  diviner  climate  folds  and  holds  us,  close 

caressed, 
As  we  feel  our  mothers  with  us  by  the  touch  of  face  and 

breast ;  — 

Our  bare  feet  in  the  meadows,  and  our  fancies  up  among 
The    airy    clouds    of    morning  —  while    the    heart    beats 
young. 

128 


WHILE    THE    HEART    BEATS    YOUNG 

While  the  heart  beats  young  and  our  pulses  leap  and 
dance, 

With  every  day  a  holiday  and  life  a  glad  romance, — 

We  hear  the  birds  with  wonder,  and  with  wonder  watch 
their  flight - 

Standing,  still  the  more  enchanted,  both  of  hearing  and 
of  sight, 

"When  they  have  vanished  wholly, —  for,  in  fancy,  wing- 
to-  w  ing 

We  ily  to  Heaven  with  them;  and,  returning,  still  we  sing 

The  praises  of  this  lower  Heaven  with  tireless  voice  and 
tongue, 

Even  as  the  Master  sanctions — -while  the  heart  beats 
young. 

While   the   heart   beats  young! — While  the  heart  beats 

young ! 

O  green  and  gold  old  Earth  of  ours,  with  azure  overhung 
And  looped  with  rainbows  !  —  grant  us  yet  this  grassy  lap 

of  thine  — 
We  would  be  still  thy  children,  through  the  shower  and 

the  shine ! 
So   pray   we,   lisping,   whispering,   in   childish   love    and 

trust, 

With  our  beseeching  hands  and  faces  lifted  from  the  dust 
By  fervor  of  the  poem,  all  unwritten  and  unsung, 
Thou  givest  us  in  answer,  while  the  heart  beats  young. 


THE  TWINS 


ONE'S  the  pictur'  of  his  Pa, 
And  the  other  of  her  Ma  — 
Jes  the  bossest  pair  o'  habies  'at  a  mortal   ever 

saw ! 

And  we  love  'em  as  the  bees 
Loves  the  blossoms  of  the  trees 
A-riclin'  and  a-rompin'  in  the  breeze ! 

One's  got  her  Mammy's  eyes  — 

Soft  and  blue  as  Apurl-skies  — 

With  the  same  sort  of  a  smile,  like  —  Yes,  and 

month  about  her  size, — 
Dimples,  too,  in  check  and  chin, 
'At  my  lips  jes  wallers  in, 
A-goin'  to  work,  er  gittin'  home  ag'in ! 


THE   TWINS 

And  the  other — Well,  they  say 

That  he's  got  his  Daddy's  way 

O'  bein'  ruther  soberfied,  er  ruther  extry  gay, — 

That  he  either  cries  his  best, 

Er  he  laughs  his  howlin'est  — 

Like  all  he  lacked  was  buttons  and  a  vest ! 

Look  at  her!  —  and  look  at  /;/';;//  — 

Talk  about  yer  "  Cheru-6/;//  /  " 

Roll  'em  up  in  dreams  together,  rosy  arm  and 

chubby  limb ! 
O  we  love  'em  as  the  bees 
Loves  the  blossoms  of  the  trees, 
A-ridin'  and  a-rompin'  in  the  breeze! 


135 


THE  WILLOW 


WHO  shall  sing  a  simple  ditty  all  about  the  Willow, 
Dainty-fine  and  delicate  as  any  bending-  spray 
That  dandles  high  the  happy  bird  that  flutters  there  to 

trill  a 
Tremulously  tender  song  of  greeting  to  the  A  Fay. 

Bravest,    too,    of    all    the    trees !  — •  none   to   match    your 

daring, — 
First  of  greens  to  greet  the  Spring  and  lead  in  leafy 

sheen ; — 

Aye,  and  you're   the   last  —  almost  into  winter   wearing 
Still  the  leaf  of  loyalty —  still  the  badge  of  green. 

Ah,    my    lovely    Willow !  —  let    the    Waters    lilt    your 

graces, — 

They  alone  with  limpid  kisses  lave  your  leaves  above, 
Flashing  back  your  sylvan  beauty,  and  in  shady  places 
Peering  up  with  glimmering  pebbles,  like  the  eyes  of 
love. 

136 


BILLY  MILLER'S  CIRCUS-SHOW 


AT  Hilly  Miller's  Circus-Show  — 
In  their  old  stable  where  it's  at  — 
The  hoys  pays  twenty  pins  to  go, 

An'  gits  their  money's-worth  at  that !  — 
'Cause  Billy  he  can  climb  and  chalk 
His  stockin'-feet  an'  purt'-nigh  walk 
A  tight-rope  - —  yes,  an'  ef  he  fall 
He'll  ketch,  an'  "skin  a  cat"-— 'at's  all! 

139 


BILLY    MILLER  S    CIRCUS    SHOW 

He  ain't  afeard  to  swing  and  hang 
1st  by  his  legs !  —  an'  mayby  stop 

An'  yell  "  Look  out !  "  an'  nen  —  k-spang !  — 
He'll  let  loose,  upside-down,  an'  drop 
Wite  on  his  hands !     An'  nen  he'll  do 
"  Contortion-acts  "•  -  ist  limber  through 
As  "  Injarubber  Mens  "  'at  goes 
With  shore-fer-certain  circus-shows ! 

At  Billy  ^liller's  Circus-Show 

He's  got  a  circus-ring  —  an'  they's 

A  dressin'-room, —  so's  he  can  go 
An'  dress  an'  paint-up  when  he  plays 
He's  somepin'  else  ;  • — 'cause  sometimes  he's 
"  Ringmaster  "-  —  bossin'  like  he  please  — 
An'  sometimes  "  Ephalunt  "•  —  er  "  Bare- 
Back  Rider,"  prancin'  out  o'  there ! 

An'  sometimes  —  an'  the  best  of  all !  — 
He's  "  The  Old  Clown,"  an'  got  on  clo'es 

All  str/pud, —  an'  white  hat,  all  tall 
An'  peakud  —  like  in  shore- 'miff  shows, — 
An'  got  three-cornered  red-marks,  too, 
On  his  white  cheeks  —  like  all  Clowns  do  !  - 
An'  you'd  ist  die,  the  way  he  sings 
An'  dances  an'  says  funny  things ! 

140 


THE  HIRED  MAN'S  FAITH  IN   CHILDREN 

(BELIEVE  all  childern's  good, 
Ef  they're  only  understood, — • 
Even  bad  ones,  'pears  to  me, 
'S  jes  as  good  as  they  kin  be! 

H3 


A  NOON  INTERVAL 


A   DEEP,  delicious  hush  in  earth  and  sky  — 
A  gracious  lull  —  since,  from  its  wakening. 
The  morn  has  heen  a  feverish,  restless  thing 
In  which  the  pulse  of  Summer  ran  too  high 
And  riotous,  as  though  its  heart  went  nigh 
To  bursting  with  delights  past  uttering : 
Now7  • — -as  an  o'erjoyed  child  may  cease  to  sing 
AH  falteringly  at  play,  with  dro\vsy  eye 
Draining  the  pictures  of  a  fairy-tale 
To  brim  his  dreams  with  • — -  there  comes  o'er  the  day 

A  loathful  silence  wherein  all  sounds   fail 
Like  loitering  tones  of  some  faint  roundelay 

No  wakeful  effort  longer  may  avail  — 
The  wand  waves,  and  the  dozer  sinks  away. 

144 


A  PASSING  HAIL 

LET  us  rest  ourselves  a  bit ! 
Worry?  —  wave  your  hand  to  it 
Kiss  your  finger-tips,  and  smile 
It  farewell  a  little  while. 

Weary  of  the  weary  way 
We  have  come  from  Yesterday, 
Let  us  fret  us  not,  instead, 
Of  the  weary  way  ahead. 

Let  us  pause  and  catch  our  breath 
On  the  hither  side  of  death, 
While  we  see  the  tender  shoots 
Of  the  grasses  —  not  the  roots, — 

While  we  yet  look  down  —  not  up  — 
To  seek  out  the  buttercup 
And  the  daisy  where  they  wave 
O'er  the  green  home  of  the  grave. 

147 


A    PASSIM G    HAIL 

Let  us  launch  us  smoothly  on 
The  soft  billows  of  the  lawn, 
And  drift  out  across  the  main 
Of  our  childish  dreams  again: 

Voyage  off,  beneath  the  trees, 
O'er  the  field's  enchanted  seas, 
Where  the  lilies  are  our  sails, 
And  our  sea-gulls,  nightingales : 

Where  no  wilder  storm  shall  beat 
Than  the  wind  that  waves  the  wheat 
And  no  tempest-burst  above 
The  old  laughs  we  used  to  love  : 

Lose  all  troubles  —  gain  release, 
Languor,  and  exceeding  peace, 
Cruising  idlv  o'er  the  vast. 
Calm  mid-ocean  of  the  Past. 

Let  us  rest  ourselves  a  bit ! 
Worry?  —  Wave  your  hand  to  it  — 
Kiss  your  finger-tips,  and  smile 
It  farewell  a  little  while. 


ON  AXY  ORDENARY  MAN  IN  A  HIGH  STATE 
OF  LAUGHTURE  AND  DELIGHT 


Let  the  old  man  laugh  and  be 
Blest  therefor  eternally! 

AS  it's  give'  me  to  perceive, 
I  most  certin'v  believe 
When  a  man's  jest  glad  plum'  through, 
God's  pleased  with  him,  same  as  you. 


THERE  WAS  A  CT TERRY-TREE 


THERE  was  a  cherry-tree.     Its  bloomy  snows 
Cool  even  now  the  fevered  sight  that  knows 
Xo  more  its  airy  visions  of  pure  joy  - 
As  when  you  were  a  boy. 

There  was  a  cherry-tree.     The  Blue  jay  set 
His  blue  against  its  white  —  O  blue  as  jet 
He  seemed  there  then!  —  But  now  —  "Whoever  knew 
He  was  so  pale  a  blue ! 

There  was  a  cherry-tree  • —  Our  child-eyes  saw 
The  miracle :  —  Its  pure  white  snows  did  thaw 
Into  a  crimson  fruitage,  far  too  sweet 
But  for  a  boy  to  eat. 

There  was  a  cherry-tree,  give  thanks  and  joy !  — 
There  was  a  bloom  of  snow  • —  There  was  a  boy  — 
There  was  a  Bluejay  of  the  realest  blue  — 
And  fruit  for  both  of  you. 

152 


•r 


AT  BROAD  RTPrLE 


OI I ,  LUXURY  !     Beyond  the  heat 
And  dust  of  town,  with  dangling  feet 
Astride  the  rock  helow  the  dam, 
Tn  the  cool  shadows  where  the  calm 
Rests  on  the  stream  again,  and  all 
Is  silent  save  the  waterfall, — 
I  hait  my  hook  and  cast  my  line, 
And  feel  the  hest  of  life  is  mine. 

155 


AT   BROAD   RIPPLE 

No  high  ambition  may  I  claim  — 
I  angle  not  for  lordly  game 
Of  trout,  or  bass,  or  wary  bream  • — - 
A  black  perch  reaches  the  extreme 
Of  my  desires  ;  and  "  goggle-eyes  " 
Are  not  a  thing  that  I  despise ; 
A  sunfish,  or  a  "  chub,"  or  "  cat  " — 
A  "  silver-side  "  —  yea,  even  that ! 

In  eloquent  tranquillity 
The  waters  lisp  and  talk  to  me. 
Sometimes,  far  out,  the  surface  breaks. 
As  some  proud  bass  an  instant  shakes 
His  glittering  armor  in  the  sun, 
And  romping  ripples,  one  by  one, 
Come  dallying  across  the  space 
Where  undulates  my  smiling  face. 

The  river's  story  flowing  by, 
Forever  sweet  to  ear  and  eye, 
Forever  tenderly  begun  • — 
Forever  new  and  never  done. 
Thus  lulled  and  sheltered  in  a  shade 
Where  never  feverish  cares  invade, 
I  bait  my  hook  and  cast  my  line, 
And  feel  the  best  of  life  is  mine. 

156 


LITTLE  DAVID 


THE  mother  of  the  little  hoy  that  sleeps 
lias  blest  assurance,  even  as  she  weeps : 
She  knows  her  little  boy  has  now  no  pain  — 
No  further  ache,  in  body,  heart  or  brain  : 
All  sorrow  is  lulled   for  him  —  all  distress 
Passed  into  utter  peace  and  restfulness. — 
All  health  that  heretofore  has  been  denied  • — • 
All  happiness,  all  hope,  and  all  beside 
Of  childish  longing,  now  he  clasps  and  keeps 
In  voiceless  joy  —  the  little  boy  that  sleeps. 

159 


A  FULL  HARVEST 


Jcs'  you  listen  and  look  wise 
'N'  let  the  old  man  sermonise! 

SEEMS  like  a  feller'd  ort  o  jcs'  to-day 
Git  down  and  roll  and  waller,  don't  you  know 

In  that-air  stubble,  and  flop  up  and  crow, 
Seem'  sich  craps !     I'll  undertake  to  say 
There  're  no  wheat's  ever  turned  out  thataway 

Afore  this  season  !  —  Folks  is  keerless  tho', 

And  too  fergitful  — 'caze  we'd  ort  'o  show 
More  thankfulness  !  —  Jes'  looky  hyonder,  hcv  ?  — 

And  watch  that  little  reaper  wadin'  time 
That  last  old  yaller  hunk  o'  harvest-ground  — 

Jes'  natchur'ly  a-slicin'  it  in-two 
Like  honey-comb  and  gaumin'  it  around 

The  field  —  like  it  had  nothin'  else  to  do 

On'y  jes'  waste  it  all  on  me  and  you! 

1 60 


LET  SOMETHING  GOOD  BE  SAID 

WHEN  over  the  fair  fame  of  friend  or  foe 
The  shadow  of  disgrace  shall  fall ;  instead 
Of  words  of  blame,  or  proof  of  thus  and  so, 
Let  something  good  he  said. 

Eorget  not  that  no  fellow-being  yet 

May  fall  so  low  but  love  may  lift  his  head: 
Even  the  cheek  of  shame  with  tears  is  wet, 
If  something  good  be  said. 

No  generous  heart  may  vainly  turn  aside 

In  ways  of  sympathy ;  no  soul  so  dead 
But  may  awaken  strong  and  glorified, 
If  something  good  be  said. 

And  so  I  charge  ye,  by  the  thorny  crown. 

And  by  the  cross  on  which  the  Savior  bled, 
And  by  your  own  souls'  hope  of  fair  renown, 
Let  something  good,  be  said  ! 

163 


HER  SMILE  OF  CHEER  AXD  VOICE  OF  SONG 

ANNA    HARRIS    RANDALL 

SPRING  fails,  in  all  its  bravery  of  brilliant  gold  and 
green, — 
The  sun,  the  grass,  the  leafing  tree,  and  all  the  dazzling 

scene 

Of  dewy  morning — -orchard  blooms, 
And   woodland   blossoms   and   perfumes 
With  bird-songs  sown  between, 

Yea,  since  she  smiles  not  any  more,  so  every  flowery  thing 
Eades,  and  the  birds  seem  brooding  o'er  her  silence  as 

they  sing  — 

Her  smile  of  cheer  and  voice  of  song 
Seemed   so  divinely  to  belong 
To  ever-joyous  Spring ! 

Xay,  still  she  smiles. —  Our  eyes  are  blurred  and  see  not 

through  our  tears : 
And  still  her  rapturous  voice  is  heard,  tho'  not  of  mortal 

ears : — 

Xow  ever  doth  she  smile  and  sing 
Where  Heaven's  unending  Clime  of  Spring 
Reclaims  those  gifts  of  hers. 

164 


A  CHRISTMAS   CAROL 


CHRIST  used  to  be  like  you  and  me, 
When  just  a  lad  in  Galilee  — 

So  when  we  pray,  on  Christmas  Day, 
He   favors  first  the  prayers  we   say: 
Then  waste  no  tear,  hut  pray  with  cheer, 
This  crkuldest  dav  of  all  the  rear: 


O  BROTHER   MINE  of  birth   Divine. 
L'pon  this  natal  day  of  Thine 
Bear  with  our  stress  of  happiness 
Xor  count  our  reverence  the  less 
Because  with  glee  and  jubilee 
Our  hearts  go  singing  up  to  Th.ee. 


167 


THE  HARPER 

LIKE  a  drift  of  faded  blossoms 
Caught  in  a  slanting-  rain, 

His  fingers  glimpsed  down  the  strings  of  his  harp 
In  a  tremulous  refrain  : 

Patter  and   tinkle,  and  drip  and  drip ! 

Ah  !  hut  the  chords  were  rainy  sweet ! 
And  I  closed  my  eyes  and  I  hit  my  lip. 

As  he  played  there  in  the  street. 

Patter,  and  drip,  and  tinkle  ! 

And  there  was  the  little  heel 
In  the  corner  of  the  garret, 

And  the  rafters  overhead ! 

And  there  was  the  little  window  — 

Tinkle,  and  drip,  and  drip  !  — 
The  rain  above,  and  a  mother's  love,. 

And  God's  companionship! 

168 


THE  SCHOOLBOY'S  FAVORITE 


F 


Orcr  the  river  and  through  the  wood, 
Non'  Grandmother's  cap  I  sp\! 

Hurrah  for  the  fun!     Is  the  pudding  done? 
Hurrah  for  the  pumpkin-pic! 

—  OLD  SCHOOL  RK 

ER  any  boy  'at's  little  as  me, 

Er  any  little  girl, 
That-un's  the  goodest  poetry-piece 

In  any  book  in  the  \vorl' ! 
An'  ef  grown-peoples  wuz  little  ag'in 

I  bet  they'd  say  so,  too, 
Ef  they'd  go  see  their  ole  Gran 'ma 

Like  our  Pa  lets  us  do ! 

171 


THE    SCHOOLBOY  S    FAVORITE 

Over  the  river  an'  through  the  wood, 

Now  Gran' mother's  cap  I  spy! 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun!  —  Is  the  puddin'  done? — 

Hurrah  fcr  the  piinkin-pic! 

An'  '11  tell  you  why  'at's  the  goodest  piece . 

'Cause  it's  ist  like  we  go 
To  our  firan'ma's,  a-visitun  there, 

"When  our  Pa  he  says  so ; 
An'  Ma  she  fixes  my  little  cape-coat 

An'  little  fuzz-cap ;  an'  Pa 
He  tucks  me  away  —  an'  yells  "Hoo-ray!" — 
An'  whacks  Ole  Gray,  an'  drives  the  sleigh 

Fastest  you  ever  saw  ! 

Over  the  river  an'  through  tJie  wood, 

Now  Gran' mother's  cap  I  spy! 
Plurrali  fer  the  fun!  — Is  the  pitddin'  done?  — 

Hurrah  fcr  the  piinkin-pic! 

An'  Pa  ist  snuggles  me  'tween  his  knees  — 

An'  I  he'p  hold  the  lines, 
An'  peek  out  over  the  buffalo-robe ;  — 
An'  the  wind  ist  blows!  —  an'  the  snow  ist  snows! 

An'  the  sun  ist  shines !  an'  shines !  — 

172 


THE    SCHOOLBOY  S    FAVORITE 

An'  th'  ole  horse  tosses  his  head  an'  coughs 

The  frost  back  in  our  face. — 
An'  I'  ruther  go  to  my  Gran'ma's 

Than  any  other  place! 

Over  the  river  an    through  the  wood, 
Now  Gran' mother's  cap  I  spy! 

Hurrah  fcr  the  fun!  —  Is  the  puddin'  done?  — 
Hurrah  fcr  the  punkin-pie! 

An'  all  the  peoples  they  is  in  town 

Watches  us  whizzin'  past 
To  go  a-visitun  our  Gran'ma's, 

Like  we  all  went  there  last ;  — 
But  they  can't  go,  like  ist  our  folks 

An'  Johnny  an'  Lotty,  an'  three 
Er  four  neighber-childerns,  an'  Rober-ut  Volney 

An'  Charley  an'  Maggy  an'  me! 

Over  the  river  an'  through  the  wood, 
Now  Gran' mother's  cap  I  spy! 

Hurrah  fcr  the  fun!  —  A?  the  puddin'  done?  — 
Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pie! 


T75 


AUTUMN 


AS  a  harvester,  at  dusk, 
Faring  down  some  woody  trail 
Leading-  homeward  through  the  musk 
Of  May-apple  and  pawpaw. 
Hazel-bush,  and  spice  and  haw, — 
So  comes  Autumn,  swart  and  hale, 
Drooped  of  frame  and  slow  of  stride, 
But  withal  an  air  of  pride 
Looming  up  in  stature  far 
Higher  than  his  shoulders  are ; 
Weary  both  in  arm  and  limb, 
Yet  the  wholesome  heart  of  him 
Sheer  at  rest  and  satisfied. 

176 


AUTUMN 

Greet  him  as  with  glee  of  drums 
And  glad  cymbals,  as  he  comes ! 
Robe  him  fair,  O  Rain  and  Shine! 
He  the  Emperor  —  the  King  — 
Royal  lord  of  everything 
Sagging  Plenty's  granary  floors 
And  out-bulging  all  her  doors ; 
He  the  god  of  corn  and  wine, 
Honey,  milk,  and  fruit  and  oil  — 
Lord  of  feast,  as  lord  of  toil  — 
Jocund  host  of  yours  and  mine ! 

Ho-   ihe  revel  of  his  laugh!  — 

Half  is  sound  of  winds,  and  half 

Roar  of  ruddy  blazes  drawn 

Up  the  throats  of  chimneys  wide, 

Circling  which,  from  side  to  side, 

Faces  —  lit  as  by  the  Dawn, 

With  her  highest  tintings  on 

Tip  of  nose,  and  cheek,  and  chin  — 

Smile  at  some  old  fairy-tale 

Of  enchanted  lovers,  in 

Silken  gown  and  coat  of  mail, 

179 


AUTUMN 

With  a  retinue  of  elves 
A  Terry  as  their  very  selves, 
Trooping  ever,  hand  in  hand, 
Down  the  dales  of  Wonderland. 

Then  the  glory  of  his  song!  — 
Lifting  up  his  dreamy  eyes  — 
Singing  haze  across  the  skies ; 
Singing  clouds  that  trail  along 
Towering  tops  of  trees  that  seize 
Tufts  of  them  to  stanch  the  breeze 
Singing  slanted  strands  of  rain 
In  between  the  sky  and  earth, 
For  the  lyre  to  mate  the  mirth 
And  the  might  of  his  refrain  : 
Singing  southward-flying  birds 
Down  to  us,  and  afterwards 
Singing  them  to  flight  again  : 
Singing  blushes  to  the  cheeks 
Of  the  leaves   upon   the  trees  — 
Singing  on  and  changing  these 
Into  pallor,  slowly  wrought. 
Till  the  little,  moaning  creeks 
Bear  them  to  their  last  farewell, 

1 80 


AUTUMN 

As  Elaine  the  lovable 
Was  borne  down  to  Lancelot. — 
Singing  drip  of  tears,  and  then 
Drying  them  with  smiles  again. 

Singing  apple,  peach  and  grape, 

Into  roundest,  plumpest  shape ; 

Rosy  ripeness  to  the  face 

Of  the  pippin ;  and  the  grace 

Of  the  dainty  stamin-tip 

To  the  huge  bulk  of  the  pear, 

Pendant  in  the  green  caress 

Of  the  leaves,  and  glowing  through 

With  the  tawny  laziness 

Of  the  gold  that  Ophir  knew,— 

Haply,  too,  within  its  rind 

Such  a  cleft  as  bees  may  find, 

Bungling  on  it  half  aware, 

And  wherein  to  see  them  sip 

Fancy  lifts  an  oozy  lip, 

And  the  singer's  falter  there. 

Sweet  as  swallows  swimming  through 
Eddyings  of  dusk  and  dew, 

183 


AUTUMN 

Singing  happy  scenes  of  home 

Back  to  sight  of  eager  eyes 

That  have  longed  for  them  to  come, 

Till  their  coming  is  surprise 

Uttered  only  by  the  rush 

Of  quick  tears  and  prayerful  hush: 

Singing  on,  in  clearer  key, 

Hearty  palms  of  you  and  me 

Into  grasps  that  tingle  still 

Rapturous,  and  ever  will ! 

Singing  twank  and  twang  of  strings 

Trill  of  flute  and  clarinet 

In  a  melody  that  rings 

Like  the  tunes  we  used  to  play, 

And  our  dreams  are  playing  yet ! 

Singing  lovers,  long  astray. 

Each  to  each  ;  and,  sweeter  things, — 

Singing  in  their  marriage-day, 

And  a  banquet  holding  all 

These  delights  for  festival. 


184 


THERE  IS  EVER  A  SONG  SOMEWHERE 


THERE  is  ever  a  song-  somewhere,  my  dear; 
There  is  ever  a  something  sings  alway : 
There's  the  song  of  the  lark  when  the  skies  are  clear. 
And  the  song  of  the  thrush  when  the  skies  are  gray. 
The  sunshine  showers  across  the  grain, 

And  the  bluebird  trills  in  the  orchard  tree ; 
And  in  and  out,  when  the  eaves  drip  rain, 
The  swallows  are  twittering  ceaselessly. 

187 


THERE    IS    EVER   A    SONG    SOMEWHERE 

There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere,  my  dear, 

Be  the  skies  above  or  dark  or  fair, 
There  is  ever  a  song  that  our  hearts  may  hear  — 
There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere,  my  dear  — 

There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere ! 

There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere,  my  dear, 

In  the  midnight  black,  or  the  mid-day  blue ; 
The  robin  pipes  when  the  sun  is  here, 

And  the  cricket  chirrups  the  whole  night  through 
The  buds  may  blow,  and  the  fruit  may  grow, 

And  the  autumn  leaves  drop  crisp  and  sear ; 
But  whether  the  sun,  or  the  rain,  or  the  snow, 

There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere,  my  dear. 

There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere,  my  dear, 

Be  the  skies  above  or  dark  or  fair, 
There  is  ever  a  song  that  our  hearts  may  hear — 
There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere,  my  dear  • — 

There  is  ever  a  song  somewhere ! 


1 88 


'CL:&_— X^ 


GOD  BLESS  US  EVERY  ONE 

/    ^  OD  bless  us  every  one!  "  prayed  Tiny  Tim, 
^-~+    Crippled  and  dwarfed  of  body,  yet  so  tall 
Of  soul,  \ve  tiptoe  earth  to  look  on  him. 
High  towering  over  all. 

191 


GOD    BLESS    US    EVERY    ONE 

He  loved  the  loveless  world,  nor  dreamed  indeed 

That  it  at  hest  could  give  to  him,  the  while, 
But  pitying  glances,  when  his  only  need 
Was  but  a  cheery  smile. 


And  thus  he  prayed,  "  God  bless  us  every  one !  "- 

Enfolding  all  the  creeds  within  the  span 
Of  his  child-heart ;  and  so,  despising  none, 
Was  nearer  saint  than  man. 


I  like  to  fancy  God,  in  Paradise, 

Lifting  a  finger  o'er  the  rhythmic  swing 
Of  chiming  harp  and  song,  with  eager  eyes 
Turned   earthward,   listening  — 


The  Anthem   stilled  —  the   Angels   leaning  there 

Above  the  golden  walls  —  the  morning  sun 
Of  Christmas  bursting  flower-like  with  the  prayer, 
*'  God  bless  us  every  one  !  " 


THE  PRAYER  PERFECT 

DEAR  Lord!  kind  Lord! 
Gracious  Lord !  I  pray 
Thou  wilt  look  on  all  I  love, 

Tenderly  to-day ! 
Weed  their  hearts  of  weariness ; 

Scatter  every  care 
Down  a  wake  of  angel-wings 
Winnowing  the  air. 

Bring  unto  the  sorrowing 

All  release  from  pain ; 
Let  the  lips  of  laughter 

Overflow  again ; 
And  with  all  the  needy 

O  divide,  I  pray, 
This  vast  treasure  of  content 

That  is  mine  to-day ! 

195 


.THERNREGIONA    LIBRARY  FACUTV 


A    000817899 


